


Late Night Rendezvous

by h4t08



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut-Off, aimeekiwi93 vs. h4t08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:41:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27507772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4t08/pseuds/h4t08
Summary: A poor tale of when a much-needed late night rendezvous is interrupted.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	Late Night Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimeejessica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeejessica/gifts).



> My entry to the 'Car Smut-Off' between @aimeekiwi93 and myself based on a conversation we had where we divulged our own respective car sex experience. 😂😂
> 
> The rules were simple: car sex, no AU and had to be set in the 60's.

“Thank you for bringing the vaccines here.” He opens the door for his wife to walk through first, the flutter of her dress mesmerizing to say the least.

“It’s a busy night at Nonnatus.” She shrugs her shoulders as they step in between more curious onlookers as they make their way towards their car.

Checking his watch, he winces when he sees how late it is. They would have been finished with their date – a rarity in of itself – had it not been for the small outbreak of diphtheria. _Still, we might have time for…_

Switching his case to his other hand, he palms the small of her back to help quicken her pace. “Despite our busy night, you look lovely in you dress.”

She gifts him with a bright smile as she puts more of a flare in her hips. “Thank you.”

“Is it ever really a wonder why she left the religious life?” The not-so-hushed tones of an older woman to someone younger, possibly her daughter, reverberates loudly off of the stone walls. “Even as a nun, she always thought her shit smelled like roses.”

Just as he is about to turn to the woman to give her a piece of his own mind, she stops him by wrapping her hand around his arm. “Leave it,” she murmurs under her breath.

Fury boils just beneath the surface of his skin, however, he heeds his wife’s request. When they reach the car, he opens the door for her. When he turns to make his way to his side, he sees the same nosy women gawking at him with snobby little sneers. Giving them a small smile, he tilts his chin towards them and yells back, “It’s more like lavender and it’s better than the perfume you douse yourself in.” Folding himself into the driver’s seat, he revs the engine and quickly drives away.

“You shouldn’t have given in.” Her voice is just as vulnerable as the fingers reaching out to touch him.

“Maureen Purtin.” He shudders as the name rolls off his tongue. “She was the one who had spread those nasty rumors after the news of our engagement had come out.”

Silence thickens after each bump they pass over. “Where are you going?”

His eyes focus on the road ahead of him, the gleaming new buildings that are now popping up in the East End are left behind as they veer through abandoned streets to a place he has called their own for the past few years.

“Patrick.” Her voice is soft, loving. “We agreed that we were no longer going to come out here, not with its impending demolition.”

His grip tightens over the smooth leather. “You look so beautiful in your dress.” He turns down a dark, yet familiar alley.

“You had told me earlier.”

Cutting the engine, he steps out and meets her at the front of the car. Digging into the front pocket of his coat, he pulls out his pack of cigarettes and a his trusty lighter. Placing one fag between his lips, he lights it and immediately hands it off to her waiting fingers. “Could you have ever imagined the amount of change that would take place since the first time we shared a cigarette here?”

“No, but I was very resistant to it in the beginning.” She passes the cigarette to him, the scent of her lavender perfume being carried on the drift of wind.

Taking a deep drag, he revels in the way the acidic smoke burns deep within his chest. “Can I make a confession?”

“Of course.” He can hear the smile in her voice, almost as if she knows exactly what he is going to confess to.

“The moment you walked away from me that morning is when I started coveting you.”

She takes the dying cigarette from his relaxed fingers and smothers it out against the concrete with the tip of her shoe. “Is that why you brought me here?” Her question is coy and does nothing to quell the desire stirring in the pit of his belly.

Her cheeks are red and slightly chilled when he cups them within his palms. “You are mine, my darling wife,” he kisses her forehead, “all mine.”

She wraps her arms around his waist, their bodies pressing together to keep any and everything else away. “Until the end of time.” Their kiss starts out sweet, it’s simplicity easy enough to explain away to anyone who should walk past. However, it becomes heated rather quickly when he remembers that this section is abandoned. Within the shadows of the crumbling buildings, her hand glides along his belt until the heel of her hand finds him hard and in desperate need of her touch.

“You know,” he twirls them around so that he has her against the bonnet, his nimble fingers pulling down the zipper to her dress, “in all the times I had coveted you, I never would have imagined how naughty you can actually be.”

Kissing him along the edge of his chin, she expertly pulls his own zipper down. “I don’t know how you have come to that assessment, Doctor Turner.” The cold nip of her questing fingers pulling him out of his pants shocks him. “My intentions are nothing but pure.”

Effortlessly, he picks her up and brings her to the back-passenger door. Wrenching it open, he gives her a smirk before diving in first, his pants and boxers down around his ankles within a matter of seconds.

“I never understood why you prefer it this way.” She remains at the foot of the door, a small smile playing along her lips. “It looks rather uncomfortable for you.”

He holds out his hand and she takes it immediately. “You feel amazing when you are on top.”

She closes the door when she folds herself in, her knees squeezing his hips in anticipation. “I do like seeing eye to eye with you.” She wraps her arms around his neck, their lips barely a breath away. “Hello.”

He lightly kisses her. “Hello.” His broad hands make their way up her thighs. “Please tell me you’re not wearing that damn girdle.”

Her hips shimmy as his fingers reach to the hem of her panties. “Not when you told me specifically not to wear it tonight.”

His finger digs underneath to find her wet, to find her wanting just for him. “Sometimes you don’t listen to me.”

“Mmm,” she grinds her hips against his hand. “I learned my lesson after the last time when you used your medical scissors to cut through them.”

“I was desperate and, if my memory serves me well, so were you.” His other hand runs through her loosening hair. “I did replace it.” He pulls down on her bun, exposing her neck much to the pleasure of his wanderlust lips.

He can feel the muscles of her throat jolt in laughter. “You replaced it with something that would be illegal for me to wear outside of our bedroom.” She moans when he pulls his hand out from her panties.

“I don’t hear you complaining.” He unbuttons the rest of her dress.

She pulls at his tie, her smile remains coy and playful. “You are incorrigible.”

“Did you miss the part when I had professed that you are mine?” He glides the top half of her dress down her arms.

“I had heard you loud and clear.” She reaches back and unhooks her brassiere for him, his own fingers a complete mess when it comes to those small hooks. “I’m not sure if claiming ownership over a person is healthy.”

“Hmm.” He throws her bra onto the seat next to him, his palms instantly cupping her breasts as his lips find purchase on the small stretch of skin between her collar bones. “Silly of you… to think… that this ownership… only goes… one way.”

“Oh, really?”

He lifts his chin, the dark, wanton look she gives him is one he will never get tired of seeing. “You have own my soul since the moment we had shared our first cigarette together. You have own my mind since the morning you passionately made your case on behalf of the residents you serve.” He threads her hair back behind her ear. “You have owned my body the very second my lips touched your palm.” His thumb lightly traces along the curve of her bottom lip. “You own every part of me and I would not have it any other way.”

Bursting through the small distance between them, she clumsily crashes her lips onto his, their bodies melting in a mixture of heated sighs and impatient hands.

Reaching under the skirt of her dress, he yanks her panties to the side and thrusts his fingers inside her. Satisfied that she is ready for him, he aligns their bodies so that the head of his penis brushes along her slick opening until she takes him in. “Fuck.” She’s hot, wet, and tight. _She’s fucking perfect_.

“Oh, Paaatrick,” she murmurs in a hushed tone, the hard _k_ being produced from deep within her throat.

Capturing her ass with both hands, he sets the pace so that their hips roll in perfect unison. “I love you, my darling wife.” His kisses are hungry as her breathless moans fill the small space of the car.

“You are mine, my dear husband.” Running her nails along the base of his neck, she pulls his head to the side by the tips of his roguish hair and licks the curve of his ear. “And I am yours.”

His heart nearly implodes at the hush of her sultry words, the meaning behind them setting fire to his soul. “Dear god,” his needy lips draw a line along her collar bones, “you’re beautiful.”

He slightly winces when her nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders, but it’s delectable pain heightens his senses. The smell of sex permeates the thick air within the car, so much so that the windows are already fogged. The seat is not as comfortable as he would like, but it’s only her pleasure he is concerned about, especially when it was his decision to take them here to carry on their tryst rather than in their nice, comfortable bed.

The one thing, though, that drives him into the sweetest oblivion is the vivacious way her body moves on top of him; the energetic confidence of her curves, the feral way she marks him as her own, the rocking of the car just on her movement alone.

God, he could feast on the sight and feel of her on top of him alone for the next five hundred years. 

Nothing.

Nothing in the world can take this moment – their moment – away from them.

**—Knock, Knock, Knock—**

_Except that_ , he silently groans

“Oh, my goodness!” Gathering what little clothes she has on her gorgeous body, she covers herself and cowers against his chest.

“Doctor Turner!”

Despite the sultry heat that they had built up within the metal and glass of his trusty MG, both of their bodies instantly cool to that of an icy river at the sound of the last person either of them wanted to hear. “It’s Sister Evangelina,” Shelagh groans against his chest.

“I know you’re in there.” She knocks on the window again. “There’s no use being shy about it now. This isn’t the first fogged car I have seen and it certainly won’t be the last.”

He rolls his eyes. “Maybe if we’re quiet then she’ll think we’re dead.” That earns him a soft giggle.

“I can still hear you.” He can hear her eyes rolling.

“It was worth the try,” he yells back.

“Patrick,” Shelagh hisses.

“Marla Hendricks’ waters have broken.”

Shelagh pushes against his chest and looks to him with wide eyes. “The twins case.”

“It’ll take me twenty minutes to get there. That means you’ll have five minutes to get yourself presentable and fifteen minutes to get there with enough time to make sure your wife is taken home safely.” The silence is palatable as drops of condensation begins to draw lazy lines down the window. “Don’t think I won’t be timing you.” With the resounding ring of her bicycle bell, they both see her shadow ride away.

It isn’t until they are once again bathed in total solitude do they even think of breathing.

“Well,” Shelagh nudges her hips, “that was awkward.”

“It was not how I was expecting the rest of our night to go.” Giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, he reaches for her bra. “Let’s get you dressed.”

“Patrick,” her voice is demure, “I’m sure we can finish what we started.”

“Dear god, do I want to.” His body begins to stir at the press of her soft lips against his throat. “But you heard—”

“Mmm…” She pulls his hands up from her hips and presses them against her breasts. “She said you have twenty minutes.”

“But… but…” He can feel the curve of her smile against the edge of his chin.

“Twelve minutes to finish what we started, five minutes to get dressed, and three minutes to drive there.” She begins to slowly roll her hips against him. “It’s just a few blocks over.” He can tell by the primness in her voice that she will not let the time get away from them.

His logic tries to hold on by its last thread, his thumbs on their own accord flicking against her taunt nipples. “How would you — Ohhh!” She tightly squeezes him, his flaccid cock instantly hardening under each mesmerizing pull of her muscles. “Fuck it.” His hand drifts back down and squeezes her perfectly round ass to encourage her to pick up the pace.

**—Knock, Knock, Knock—**

The flash of a light douses them back into those icy waters.

“I’m sorry, Doctor Turner,” Sergeant Noakes turns off his torch. “I am under strict orders that if ten minutes passes or if, umm,” the constable nervously clears his throat, “if the, uhhh, vehicle begins to, uhh, move on its own accord, then I should step in.”

Knowing when they are beat, he yells back, “We will be out of here in five minutes.”

“Would you like me to escort Mrs. Turner back to your home?”

“No!” Both of their voices startle the constable, the smell of sex too strong to air out within a few seconds.

“Very well. I will return back to my duty on High Street.”

Gathering their clothes, they begin to piece together their buttons and hooks as the sound of the sergeant’s footsteps fades away. When he opens the door all of the sweet, condensed steam bellows out as they both step out onto the uneven pavement.

“I’m going to miss this place.” He tries his best to shake out the wrinkles from his jacket. “The foreman I talked to today said that it will be totally demolished by Thursday.”

“I’m sure we will find somewhere else.” She smooths out her dress. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I would even want to return here now that Sister Evangelina has caught us.”

“At least we weren’t arrested for indecent exposure.”

“And you think Sister Evangelina is better?”

He shudders. “No.” He escorts her to the passenger side of the car. “At least you don’t have to work with her in,” he checks his watch, “thirteen minutes.”

She chuckles under her breath as he slips into the driver’s seat. “I promised Sister Julienne that I would attend chapel tomorrow.”

“Hmmm,” he cringes as they both roll down the windows, “that is worse.” He starts the engine and effortlessly drives down the empty road, passing by Sister Evangelina’s bicycle parked in front of Marla Hendricks’ building. “I wonder how she found us?”

“At nearly two o’clock in the morning?” She shakes her head, the cool wind wiping around them. “Only god knows.”

“That’s not necessarily comforting,” he mutters under his breath. He parks the car in front of their home. “I can tell you one thing,” he turns to her with a cheeky smile he knows she loves, “I’m not sorry.”

Bright pink flushes along her cheeks. “Neither am I.” She sweetly kisses him on the cheek before opening the door and stepping out. “However,” she pops her head into the open window, “we will eventually finish what we started.”

“I am so glad we moved the supply closet next to my office.”

“Good luck tonight.” She gives him a quick wink and a playful smile.

“Good night, my bold girl.”

**Author's Note:**

> Go and read Aimee's "An Awkward Encounter"! You will love it as much as I do! 😉😉


End file.
